


Don't Worry Baby

by notreserenade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alernative Universe - Delinquent Kuroo and class president Yachi, Alternative Universe - Yachi and Kuroo are in the same class, Angst, Developing Relationship, Emotional Comfort, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Slow Burn, mentions of alcoholism and domestic violence, mild swearing, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notreserenade/pseuds/notreserenade
Summary: In which vivacious Kuroo teaches an apprehensive Yachi to stray away from her usual routines and live a little.





	1. What A Weird Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Previously titled, "Don't Worry". 
> 
> Songs that inspired this fic to happen:
> 
> \- Saturday Sun by Vance Joy  
> \- Roads by Westerman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yachi finds a stray kitten by the dumpster.

It’s tiring to follow routines that’s set up for success. They’re repetitive, time-consuming, and has no room for anything else that one might want to enjoy because surely spare time isn't a part of such a schedule.

But what was success, anyway?  
  
To Yachi Hitoka, it meant to graduate high school, get into college, and get a job. It wasn’t very original, as it was a lot of people’s dream to be able to follow a routine that would set them up for no failure. But was it really that bad to want to be comfortable? To not think outside the box all the time, to not be ambitious enough to set goals that were inspiring... to not stray away from routines that you've built for yourself meant that not much would change, and that, in a way, is very comforting.

Yachi didn't like change very much. From the way she wore her school uniform to her neatly colour-coded bookshelf, she was very much content with things having methods and rules to leave them to be left unchanged. Throughout her life of being Yachi Madoka's daughter, she felt like she's gone through enough changes for a lifetime in which has taught her that change only resulted in disruption and a lot of exhaustion.

For things to be left unchanged meant that even if hopes and dreams were to be put on hold, there would always be the comfort of things always staying the same, which in itself meant that there was always going to be a place that you’d be able to go back to.

Yachi’s mother was a very confident and successful businesswoman; the type that seemingly always had things under control and was always ready to make ends meet. The type that was ambitious and inspiring and basically everything else that Yachi felt like she couldn't be. As a young girl, she would look up to her so much that she’d try to think about how her mother would deal with the problems that she’d face from day to day as a kindergartener. The boy that sat next to her stole her colour pencils? Mom would probably let him have them because he was immature. A girl hit her with a stick? Mom would probably hit her back with it.

The last scenario obviously didn’t end very well for little six-year-old Yachi, and never did she dare to use her mother as a solution to her problems after that incident ever again.

Thankfully, Yachi’s hard work paid off without the help of her mother, as she managed to get into a relatively good high school. Being a single parent who worked long hours, Yachi's mother didn’t leave her much of a choice but to try things for herself. No tutors, no helpers, no babysitters. Just Yachi Hitoka, and her small, nervous hands trying to figure out how to wash the dishes at nine years old and use the laundry machine at ten.

One would think that her independence would make her more confident and less anxious when it came to her personality. She’d wish for more confidence too if she could, but the constant failures that she had to go through by herself, topping them off with rather harsh words from her mother (who was convinced that she was strong enough to handle them), confidence slowly became a far-fetched concept that required guts that Yachi did not have.

High school was a place where kids would have resolutions where they'd change themselves in order to be more mature, or to look more attractive, or to do whatever that they felt they needed to do in order to feel like they will fit in. Yachi had been amazed at all the different people her age that she'd met at the school ceremony; the short skirts, the thick make-up, the hairstyles... things that sat so unfamiliarly with her made her wonder exactly how she was going to find her place in high school in the midst of so many confused teenagers that were trying too hard to look like they belonged.

But as time went by, schoolwork gradually piled up and soon such worries were forgotten among the piles of homework and school projects by Yachi, who found herself spending more time with her nose dipped in practice exams than in a Sundae shared with friends on weekends.

“Are you alright?” a deep voice asks Yachi, who was nodding away at her desk from being up too late the night before. It’s been three months since she started high school, but she had yet to recognize everyone in her class. She knew the names of the girls that she'd vaguely befriended, but other than them, the rest of the class seemed to consist of the same old cliques that usually existed in high school. The cool kids, the jocks, the nerds… cliques that didn’t really make sense but still seemed so important for teenagers to be a part of to feel like they belonged.

Yachi didn't feel like she belonged any of them. Being the timid and nervous self that she was, it required too much bravery to put in the effort to fit in. Also, being the daughter of a well-respected businesswoman, she knew better than to conform to such stereotypes.

After all, your reputation in high school wasn't worth anything if it didn't guarantee a future.

The boy that the voice belonged to was a tall, muscular boy with dark, golden eyes. He was rather intimidating; his face and hands were somehow always covered in band-aids, and he’d come in and out of the classroom whenever he liked. A delinquent, Yachi would assume, if she was to put him in a stereotype.

Upon realizing that he was waiting for her to answer him, Yachi immediately straightens her stance and squeaks a reply. “Y-yup! Just tired!”

Yachi’s sudden high pitch startles the dark-haired boy, whose intimidating aura suddenly completely vanishes as he gives her a cheeky grin. “No need to be so scared,” he assures her, “it’s not like I asked because I wanted your pocket money or anything.”

Yachi thought that he’d approached her because she was somehow in his way, or that she’d somehow offended him. Aside from occasionally meeting eyes with each other in the hallways, they had, after all, never spoken to each other, so for him to suddenly approach her, with him seemingly being a delinquent and all, made her automatically assume that he had some ulterior motive. Eyeing him slightly suspiciously (slightly, because she probably looks more afraid than anything), Yachi bows her head and looks out to the window, still feeling a bit drowsy from being so suddenly woken up from almost falling asleep.

 _What a weird guy,_ she thinks as she steals a glance at his reflection in the glass, only to turn completely red at meeting his eyes and wiggling eyebrows in it.

\---

The second time Yachi meets his eyes was behind a dumpster near her apartment.

He was sitting up with his back resting on the brick building and had one leg arched up for his arm to rest on. He looked like a mess, with his black eye and bruised jaw. She knew that he probably was involved in a lot of fights considering the number of bruises he’d always show up with at school, but never did she think that it was so serious to a point where she’d find her in a dark alleyway behind a dumpster.

“Are… are you alright?” Yachi hears herself whisper to him, her hand covering her mouth in shock at how bloody his face was. Normally, Yachi’s natural instincts would make her run as far away from him as possible, but looking as beaten up as he did, she couldn’t just leave him even if she was scared.

The boy struggles with looking at her, wincing in the process of trying to move his body to face her. Yachi furrows her brows and quickly taps his arm in an attempt to stop him from moving.

“I don’t think you should move too much. You look…”

“Completely screwed?” he says in a scratchy voice as he smiles his cheeky smile from last time, leaving Yachi confused. How was he able to smile when he looked like this?  
  
“You should probably go to a hospital. I’ll take you there.” Yachi decides to say after a small pause. It was hard to figure out what she was supposed to say since she knew almost nothing about him. What was appropriate and what was not? What if she hurt his feelings by bringing up something that he’d like to avoid talking about?

But instead of accepting her offer, the boy shakes his head. “Thank you, vice prez, but I’m alright. I’d be grateful if you could help me stand, though.” He says, his cheeky smile still on his lips. Yachi quickly drops the groceries that she had bought on her way home and attempts to take his heavy arm around her neck, almost becoming squished in the process.

“I-I’ll help with your wounds! My apartment’s just around the corner.” Yachi says as she struggles with his weight, earning a cocked eyebrow from the tall boy.

“That sounds cheeky.” He laughs, making Yachi blush.

“My mom’s not home, so it’s fine.”

“Perfect.”

Yachi dares to shoot a glare at him. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Chuckling lightly, the raven-haired boy ruffles Yachi’s golden hair with his unwounded hand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

 And he did.

 

(So much).

 

The two of them slowly head to Yachi’s apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the dumpster. For this, Yachi was grateful for, since she'd probably be completely crushed if she lived any further away. 

How ironic, Yachi thinks as she helps the wounded boy slowly take his steps towards her apartment, how she always finds herself picking up strays in the same place that she'd found him in.


	2. And Yet There She Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo finds an emotional baby bird behind the lockers.

"It's almost seven. Shouldn't you be eating dinner with your parents or something?" Kuroo asks the small blonde in front of him, who was gently dabbing a cotton pad to the cuts of his palms. Her touch was so gentle, so subtle, and yet so firm as if she actually cared about him. It was weird to receive attention and care from someone whom he didn't know. The people that were supposed to be the closest to him had yet to show him such affection, so to receive it from someone from his class made him slightly uncomfortable. A classmate wasn't supposed to be in his personal space, and yet there she was; Yachi Hitoka, the class president of his class who always had a spring to her steps as if she was always on duty and ready to take on whatever task that would be thrown at her.

Whatever task, no matter how much she wanted or didn't want to do it.

Kuroo had found himself observing her during the rare moments that he'd actually attend school. He'd seen her build a shelter for a kitten that would always pass by the school, and seen her clap her hands loudly to every single performance that she was watching despite it being horrible as if assuring the performers that they did well.

Yachi was always doing things for other people without ever seemingly expecting anything in return, and it made Kuroo uneasy. People weren't nice, and for her to be so easily taken advantage of only meant that she would never get to catch a break. It annoyed Kuroo how people never gave a thought to how the plants in the classroom were always watered, and how class notes were always neatly written on time before class.

People were selfish and annoying and unappreciative -- which, in retrospective, probably was human nature in it's rawest form.

But still. Yachi Hitoka wasn't like that. She was probably one of the most diligent people he'd ever laid his eyes upon. She was hard-working and polite, never rude and always fretting over things that no one else seemed to care about. She was a push-over. A push-over who did things that no one else wanted to do, and would try to keep the classroom intact even when her small hands were trembling with fear of the confrontation that she was faced with.

What a shame it was, Kuroo would think when he'd witness his classmates being assholes to Yachi, that their parents were expecting to depend on this so-called "future generation". What was the point in preparing for a future when the person doing so was a shitty human, to begin with?

Kuroo didn't think much about his own future. He dreaded it, and would probably kill than to admit that he secretly didn't really want to grow up. He wanted to remain in the comfort of being irresponsible forever and take every day that he got with a grain of salt, as if numbing himself to prepare for the worst. 

Kuroo wasn't one to show much of how he really felt, either. He often masked his unwanted feelings with witty remarks and a cheeky smile whenever people would try to get into his personal space, and seldom let people into his life since he, to put it lightly, had too much shit going on. Shit that shouldn't matter to anyone, anyway, so there was really no reason for them to get involved.

And so to have him being found by the dumpster, and by no other than Yachi Hitoka, made his whole ideal seem a bit ironic. Kuroo was almost everything that she wasn't; open and honest whenever it came to expressing his opinion on things and gave no double-takes on answering no to things he didn't want to do.

It was so simple to say no to things, and yet there she was, always taking shit from others. Always standing with her head low.

Always looking down to her feet.

It reminded him too much of  _her,_ and it was driving him nuts. 

Although it wasn't like it was like he had an ulterior motive or anything when he'd accepted her help considering the fact that he was literally beat to a pulp and was left to be fed to wild dogs by the dumpster, but the gnawing feeling he'd get whenever he'd see Yachi wasn't going to go away by itself, and he couldn't help but feel like he needed to do something about her.

Yachi blows to Kuroo's wound on his palm, her warm breath hitting his skin with a tingle, making his tense shoulders slightly loosen up. Her presence was soothing to Kuroo, and the irony of finding comfort in such a small and fragile human almost made him want to laugh.

"She's not home." he suddenly hears her reply to him, startling Kuroo from his train of thought since he hadn't expected her to answer him by how long she'd been quiet.

"So you're going to eat by yourself?" Kuroo challenges then and raises an eyebrow by the sight of Yachi being unfazed by his invasive curiosity.

Yachi takes out a few clean bandages from the first-aid kid beside her, tapes them over his palms, and works her way to his face where his black eye awaits. She was so close to his face that he could feel her slightly shaking with each soft touch that he put to his skin. Was she still scared of him? She probably was, with all things considered.

But when Kuroo meets her gaze, he realizes that he's probably wrong. Or maybe it was his self-indulgence that was wanting her not to be afraid, but either way, something about the softness in her eyes was telling him that she wasn't actually scared of him. Of the situation, maybe, but not of him. 

Shifting her gaze away from him, Yachi replies to Kuroo with a small voice.

"I always do that, anyway."

A pause is shared between them, and Kuroo tries his best to hold his tongue to stop himself from asking anymore (because quite frankly, he feels like he's asked too much already), but gives in to his curiosity because when would he ever get to know her if it wasn't now? 

"But you bought groceries enough for two."

Yachi meets his eyes again. Kuroo had expected her to be angry with him by this point, but the look that she gives him says anything but. If anything, she just looked  _sad,_ making Kuroo immediately regret asking too much.

Now was definitely not the time to get to know her.

"just in case." Yachi simply replies him with a small smile, and finishes treating Kuroo by gently putting a bandage over Kuroo's black eye.   
  


\---  
  


Kuroo Tetsurou was a weird guy.

Yachi's learned that he likes his food salty, hence his favourite food being grilled mackerel. He likes the colour red, and seemed to love playing with her pony-tail during class or outside of it; always making it flop, or turning it around like an antenna while making weird, radio voices that welcomed aliens to earth.

But Kuroo, despite her having a changed opinion of him, was still showing up to school with new bandages and bruises, and it made her worry. 

He didn't smoke, or drink alcohol, or do drugs. So why was he fighting so much?

 _Who,_ was he fighting with so much?

After their encounter at the dumpster, Yachi found herself being approached by Kuroo quite often at school. It was a strange sight to many, as it didn't quite make sense for the studious and proper Yachi Hitoka whom was nice to everyone and always handed her homework in time to hang out with Kuroo Tetsurou whom had endless of excuses when asked about his attendance or thought with his fists more than his brain. 

But Yachi had learnt that despite whatever rumours there was about Kuroo Tetsurou, he wasn't so much of a scary delinquent that he appeared to be if you would just  _talk_ to him. Sure, he thought more with his fists than with his brain, and yes, he only came to school to fill up his attendance to the bare minimum during their first year in order to move up a grade, but he wasn't  _just_ that.

He'd somehow passed enough exams to pass for second grade, after all, and it wasn't like he was hitting every single person he saw.

...Maybe he'd hit just a _few_ of the people he'd see, but that's beside the point. Clearly he wouldn't act without reason. Hopefully.

People are so much more than what they show. Yachi knew this, but it was so easy to put people in boxes that concluded individuals in just a few simple descriptive words. Perhaps it was the selfishness of secretly not wanting to care about other people (or rather, any  _more_ people) that had made Yachi conform to this.

She didn't want to care, even though she tended to care far too much and far too often. 

She _cares_ , because the ones she loved don't care enough. 

Yachi admired how free-spirited Kuroo seemed to be. He said whatever was on his mind, and did whatever he felt like. He didn't give two cents about what people thought of him, and quite frankly, that's what Yachi wants for herself, too. It was weird, how she'd find herself glance over at the classroom door until the very last minute of class starting in hopes of getting to see his face.

It wasn't that she didn't have any friends or that she didn't have anyone to talk to, but the company that he occasionally offered was nice and comfortable. Kuroo was someone who didn't know much about her and didn't ask questions that made her uncomfortable, which practically made them, for the lack of a better term, comfortable strangers; not too personal, and not completely unfamiliar.

But on a particular day when she  _had_ seen him walk through the classroom door on time for class, she'd find him invade the comfortable unfamiliarity that he'd offered as he'd found her spilling tears behind the school lockers. Yachi, who never skipped class even when she had a fever of thirty-nine degrees, had skipped out on the first period, and with Kuroo being Kuroo, of course he wasn't going to miss out on a rebellious Yachi Hitoka. 

It wasn't hard to find her, or for him to slip out of class since that's what he usually did anyway. When Yachi had seen him approaching her, she'd thought that she'd have to follow her natural instincts and run away. But instead of immediately asking what was wrong when he'd found her crying, Kuroo had instead silently stood with his back on the lockers opposite to where Yachi was crouching on the floor with her face hidden in her knees.

He'd let her sniffle her cries for a while, and with a quick glance at the time (which revealed itself to be almost near break time), Kuroo decided to propose an idea to Yachi. 

"Want to run away with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year people! Hopefully 2019 won't kick my (or your) ass as much as 2018 did. 
> 
> As always, any feedback greatly appreciated, and see you next year. :)


	3. A Sea Full of Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ocean waves.

"W-what?" Yachi manages to utter as she tries to blink away the frustrating tears that kept welling up in her eyes. Skipping class was already out of her comfort zone, and now she was going to skip school? At least she would be able to somehow cook up a lie for skipping on an hour of class, but what did she have for a full day? Someone died? Her home exploded?

“You don’t need to.” Kuroo assures her while crossing his arms, “but I would like to highly recommend a day with Kuroo Tetsurou to ease whatever frustrations that you’re having.”

Yachi peeks over at the lockers behind her and finds that she doesn’t need to completely turn around to have a glimpse of the mischievous raven-haired boy because he’d already shifted himself closer to her as he’d been talking.

“I’ll give you a refund guarantee if I break my word.” Kuroo quickly adds as he watches Yachi standing to her feet.

Yachi doesn’t quite understand how he’d managed found her, or why he’s even bothering with her in the first place. She’s so used to do things alone, that it feels foreign to have someone to talk to when she’s being so vulnerable.

Despite the fact that Yachi has always an open book of emotions, she’s always hated that she was just that. Always wearing her heart on her sleeve, always being vulnerable in front of people, always being so easily affected by the ones and things around her. But how could she change? It wasn't like she was choosing to react the way she did. But to be too happy or too sad – to simply be too much of anything never resulted in anything good.

Expectations were never good.

Time after time she's held to the hope of being able to expect things to be different. Time after time, she's been patient in hopes of things changing.

But it never is, and she never learns.

It's been like this since she was a child. Surely after so many years of broken hopes and expectations, she would’ve learned to stop by now. To stop being so hopeful towards people in order to stop becoming disappointed.

But she didn't. Because of course she didn't. Not when expectations were always set high, just to be broken down to pieces in the very last minute. Not when lies were told like truths, and promises were always on the brink of becoming reality. To Yachi, it had been too much of a waste to let go of the possibilities that never were.

  
Kuroo takes out his hand and counts his fingers of all the options they had to run away to. "The beach, the swimming pool,  _my house._.. our options are endless." 

Yachi frowns at his suggestions. "Isn't going to the swimming pool and going to the beach essentially the same thing?"

"Not at all, baby girl." Kuroo muses while wagging a finger at Yachi playfully. "All my given options are an opportunity to catch you na-"

"Kuroo-kun."

"Just kidding."

A smile reaches Yachi's lips, and Kuroo internally sighs in relief for succeeding in his ridiculous attempt to cheer her up. It was a pathetic way to do so, but it was  _his_  way.

Kuroo had been at loss of what he was supposed to do when he’d seen the small blonde by the lockers. The sight of her in tears was something that he thought that he’d never witness, considering all the times he’s seen her holding them back. And it wasn’t like he was used to approaching people, either.  
  
Kuroo was rough around the edges while Yachi seemed like she had no edges at all, and perhaps it’s because of just that which has led for him to approach her by being his usual, teasing self—as if nothing has happened, and as if he was just casually asking her out.

After all, since she’d helped him out of a situation that would’ve turned out pretty badly if it wasn’t for her help, Kuroo figures that he might as well do the same for her.

\---

Going to the ocean to clear one’s mind was cliché. There have been so many movies that have had a scene where the size of the ocean was compared to a character’s problems; an epiphany that’s supposed to make him or she realize that whatever they were going through, there’d be no way for it to be larger than the ocean.

But clichés are nice, Kuroo thinks, when he watches a much calmer Yachi beside him. She seemed so nervous with her frantic movements as they had jumped over the fence of the school entrance, but to see her close her eyes and hair travel with the wind made Kuroo happy.

She looked happy, and that was all that needed to matter right now.

The sound of the ocean brings you on a voyage – reminding you of how lucky you are to be able to live in the moment of the ocean breeze and sand between your toes. Kuroo reminds Yachi of this when he attempts to take off her socks and shoes before making her sit in the sand.

The sand is warm from the sun, and so is Kuroo’s heart when he watches a blushing Yachi above him when he’s at her feet while struggling to take off her socks

“K-Kuroo-“

“Hey,” Kuroo says with a smirk, “don’t worry. I don’t have a foot fetish.”

“Kuroo-kun!”

Chuckling, he slides her socks off and plants her feet neatly into the sand, almost as if he was building sand castles around them. “ _And_ —now they’re gone. See?”

“Yeah.” Yachi mutters as she tears her gaze away from the golden-eyed tease.

All the things that she was experiencing were things that she wasn’t used to. She wasn’t used to accepting help from someone, or going to the beach, or feeling the ocean breeze in her hair. She wasn’t used to so many things that were happening all at the very same time, but Kuroo’s hearty laugh that rung in her ears somehow assures her that it was alright.

It was alright to be in the moment. And with Kuroo—even if she’s not supposed to.

The two of them had somehow managed to end up on the beach in the neighboring city—which to Yachi’s horror was two hours away from home. They’ve already entered late afternoon by now, and although the sun was still strong, it was starting to send cascading shadows to the beautiful, empty beach. Empty, because it was not a weekend and they were there at a time when everyone was not. And empty, because Kuroo Tetsurou is spontaneous and quick-minded and didn’t give a flying fuck about the potential mess that the two of them were leaving behind.

And it was nice. The fact that it was only the two of them and no one else on the big, golden-sanded beach made Yachi realize just how nice the beach actually was.

She’s gone here before as a child. But only once, and only with her father.

“Have you been here before?” Kuroo asks as he pats his own feet into the sand next to her. Their shoes and socks were sloppily thrown to the side, and for a second, Yachi's mind shifts to her worries for their clothes potentially being blown away or swept away by the ocean waves.

But as if he’d read her mind, Kuroo solves this problem by putting sand all over their socks and shoes.

“Oh no.” Yachi breathes.

“At least we’ll know where they are, right?”

“…You’re great at problem-solving.” Yachi softly laughs in defeat, which Kuroo rolls his eyes at.

“Well, I’ve certainly become better at that from watching you solving everyone else’s problems.”

A small pause enters the conversation – but it’s not an unpleasant one. He’s speaking the truth, after all. Yachi was a people pleaser, and a chronic one.

“How do I stop?” Yachi suddenly hears herself ask, her eyes meeting his with a genuine eagerness that startles even herself.

“How do I—you know, stop caring?”

Kuroo taps his chin in thought, and decides on the first thing that comes in mind. “For starters, you should stop being the class president.”

Puffing her cheeks, Yachi frowns at his solution. “That’s not possible.”

“Or you could just hang around me all the time and I’ll tell off everyone for you.”

This makes her smile. “Does that mean that you’re going to come to school more often?”

“To keep all of those bastards who keep making you do stuff for them away from you? I’ll come to school every day to stick a broom up their asses if I have to.” Kuroo answers her with a wink.

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.”

A small slap hits Kuroo’s shoulder, making Kuroo cock an eyebrow at her. “Getting aggressive, are we?”

“You’re being silly.” Yachi laughs, and suddenly Kuroo decides to do what he’s been itching to do ever since they’d arrived at the ocean.

With a swift motion, Kuroo picks Yachi up from the sand and brings her near the water, making her squeal in horror over how they were both in their uniforms and there was no way she’d be able to wash it in time for tomorrow-  
  
“I’m going to drop you!” Kuroo threatens as he lowers his body to get Yachi near the water.

“D-Don’t! Kuroo-kun!” Yachi squeals, her grip around Kuroo’s neck tightening in hopes of saving both her uniform and herself. “I can’t swim!”

“Don’t worry, baby.” Kuroo laughs evilly, “I can swim.”

Yachi buries her face into Kuroo’s neck to keep herself away from the water, which Kuroo suddenly becomes a bit too aware of and loses his footing before he can find his balance again, making the both of them enter the cold water with a _splash._

Making sounds that were incomprehensive, Kuroo apologizes to a soaking wet Yachi who’s now looking down at her feet.

But instead of being scolded by the class president, Yachi starts to laugh when she looks up at him, making Kuroo both relieved and confused over her sudden outburst.  
  
“W-what?”  
  
Still laughing, Yachi stands on her tip-toes to touch the mess that was now Kuroo’s hair. “Sir? Have you seen Kuroo Tetsurou? He’s a classmate of mine-“

“Ha ha,” Kuroo deadpans, but a smile creeps to his lips, “very funny.”

\---

Thankfully for the two of them, the sun was strong enough to at least dry them out a _little_ bit. Yachi couldn’t believe how much fun she was having with the gigantic nerd that was Kuroo. Despite his reputation, and the way he looked, he was actually capable of having a passionate conversation about marine biology and how the ecosystem of Japan was about to be doomed if people didn’t start to recycle more.

He was so endearing that she couldn’t believe it. How much of a waste it was for the people to be misunderstanding him.

The rumors that went around about him were ridiculous now that Yachi had gotten to know him. Yachi remembers how one of her classmates had warned her about him having had killed ten grown men with his bare hands, or how he often participated in bank robberies when he was bored.

Looking down to his scratched-up knuckles, Yachi’s not surprised that there are rumors like that going around about him. But still, she wished people could just _open their eyes._ To set their judgment aside for just a second and _really see_ who Kuroo Tetsurou really was.

A comfortable silence is shared between the two of them while they bask in the sun to let their uniforms dry. Thanks to the ever-so-prepared Yachi, who managed to find a towel in her backpack from P.E., they had now something to sit on, and the sudden closeness that they shared made Kuroo realize something. It was almost five in the evening, and the sun was slowly setting—painting the sky a pretty shade of pink and blue. Maybe it was the fact that her hair kept blowing in her face while the golden light was shining down her long eyelashes or the content smile that was resting at her lips that had woken a sudden feeling of wanting to be closer to Yachi Hitoka and her wonderful laugh that she showed once in a full moon. Or maybe it was just the immense need that had been gathered at his chest that made Kuroo want to talk about himself – something that almost never happened.

Whatever it was, Kuroo wanted her to know.

To listen. Because even though he was the one that had taken her away to momentarily distract her from whatever had made her cry, he figured that perhaps by him opening up to her might make her feel just a little less alone.

And so he did.  
  
"You know... about last time." Kuroo starts, his voice following the wind in the midst of the waves reaching their feet again.

Yachi looks up at him. He was looking down, as if trying to expose the very thing that he was trying to hide.

"Hm?" she gently answers him. A response that sets his heart at ease. How weird it was, how almost everything that she did would have that effect on him.

She could do no wrong, he realizes, when he watches Yachi tilt her head slightly in response to his silence.

If someone was going to listen to him without pity or judgment, it would be Yachi Hitoka and her small, star-bound ponytail. It would Yachi Hitoka, and her red-flushed cheeks.

It would be her— _and she would understand_.

"That day was my mom's one-year death anniversary."

A silence approaches the two of them, leaving the loud waves to fill the sudden rock of a fact that Kuroo had just dropped on Yachi.

"I see." she whispers, who increasingly becomes unsure of how to react. There was no right or wrong way to respond to something like that, after all, but Yachi couldn't help but feel like she responded a little too soon.

But a glance to Kuroo's face is all it takes for her to realize that there were no more words needed to be spoken.

Understanding. That's what he needs. Someone to listen. Someone to hold his hand when he's about to cry.

But Kuroo wasn't crying. He would probably never let himself cry in front of anyone if he was to so choose. But the clench of his fists and hardened expression on his face was more than enough for Yachi to understand. To nod, and to wait for him to speak when he felt like he could continue.

And he does. Kuroo glances down to her small hands that were only inches beside his own, and continues.

"My mother past away last year.” He starts, the hint of uncertainty still in his voice. “It'd probably pathetic if I was to start rambling on about how beautiful and caring she was, since that's how it usually goes when people talk about family members that they've lost, right?"

Yachi simply looks down to his big hands that were resting next to hers. The bandage that she'd helped him with was drenched in blood. He probably didn't do a very good job (if at all) on changing them.

Putting her hand over his bandage, she slightly shakes her head. "No. That's not true."

"Would it be bad if I said that I hated her?"

Yachi meets his eyes. Every time she did this made his heart clench a little. She never looked at him the way everyone else did; condescendingly, threateningly, frightenedly. She was so gentle, and it almost makes him forget to breathe.

Giving him a small smile with nothing but affection, she replies to him.

"Depends."  

"Well, I hated her.” Kuroo starts, breaking the gaze that they were holding and instead holds her hand that she’d put on top of his.

“I hated her for how passive she was. How she never was able to stand up for herself, and for how she always masked away whatever was going on. She lied all the time and was never honest with what was really happening."

He didn't need to spell it out for her to understand that despite all the things that he was counting as things he hated about his mother, he must've loved her so much. The look in his eyes gave it away.

"I hated how she'd always be in the kitchen cooking food that I loved whenever she was feeling sad, or how she'd always put earphones in my ears whenever my dad would come home when I was younger."

Yachi felt him taking both of her hands in his, his touch slightly trembling, and brought them to his chin. 

He was still looking down. But Yachi felt his tears on her skin, and she understood. Wordlessly, she puts her palm to his cheek, making him look at her. Her touch was, just like the first time they'd touched his cheeks, warm and gentle. But unlike the first time she'd looked at him, she was wearing the softest expression he'd ever seen her look at someone with. He's seen her give the same eyes to the stray kitten behind school grounds, and this makes him laugh a little.

"Are you pitying me?" he manages to croak out. 

A sudden flash of panic crosses Yachi's face, and she immediately tries to remove her hands from his cheek. "No, not at all! I'm-"

But Kuroo understood, too. Giving her a small smile, he takes back her hands and puts them back to his cheeks.

"I know."

\---

It starts to rain when they finally decide to catch their train-ride back home. Because of the long walking-distance between the train station and the beach, Kuroo decides that it’s a better idea to wait it out a bit and take shelter. Laughing over how they were like grade-schoolers finding shelter from the rain, they find a spot under a big umbrella near the closed cafeteria that the rain could not reach.

Although the umbrella was big, it was still a bit cramped considering how huge Kuroo was – especially beside someone as small as Yachi. Her shoulder becomes wet, which Kuroo realizes when he shifts himself closer to her.

“Hey, scoot over.”

“No! It’s alright- “

“No, it’s not,” Kuroo mutters under his breath as his eyes travel from her wet shoulder to her hair. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“You know, you might think that I’m like a fragile leaf or something-“ Yachi protests, “but I take vitamins, alright?”

Kuroo chuckles at this. “Oh really now? Vitamins, huh?”

“They’re actually really effective.” Yachi frowns.

Kuroo’s gently goes through her hair with his fingers, and takes off the star hairband to let her hair fly in whatever direction the wind takes it. His touch is soft, and so was the expression on his face. And maybe it was the heat of the moment; the fact that they were on the beach on a dark evening with their faces being dimly lit by the streetlights around them, that made Yachi feel like her heart was bursting out of her chest. Or maybe it was just Kuroo Tetsurou.

Whatever it was, Yachi closes her eyes when she feels his hand traveling to her cheek, which Yachi then takes in hers.

The two of them had run away. Only for a day, but still, It was nice; to be away from school, away from home, away from problems.  
  
To bask in each other’s warmth, even if the cold rain was hitting their skin.

And suddenly everything felt okay.

It was going to be okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've reached to this little author's note, hello and thank you for reading! It's been a while since I updated this even though I've had this chapter as a draft the whole time. I hope it didn't turn out too choppy, though, since I switched the scenes so many times haha. 
> 
> As always, any feedback is very welcome! I'd love it if you'd share your thoughts on the chapter in the comments. :)


	4. Rumours Has It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain proud black cat witnesses a certain evolving baby bird.

The duo that was Kuroo Tetsurou and Yachi Hitoka was a peculiar one. Seemingly not ever part from each other at school, it was almost as if they’d always been a duo. Classmates would often speculate that Yachi had been blackmailed, but upon further observation, it didn’t seem like that was the case. To everyone’s surprise, Yachi would actually be found to snap back at Kuroo whenever he’d successfully throw paper planes at her in class. Yachi Hitoka, who was the textbook definition of a push-over, would actually talk back to the scariest kid in class, and it didn’t make sense.

Or perhaps it did. Kuroo was, after all, not like the way he was with Yachi when he was around his other classmates. When he was around people he didn’t care for, Kuroo’s eyes would be cold, his expression disinterested, and by just approaching him from a distance would make you sense his immediate aura of being all kinds of intimidating.

But the Kuroo who was around Yachi was, to say the least, anything but the above; always smiling, eyes soft, and always attentive to the smallest details and gestures that Yachi would make. He was such a contrast from what people had always thought that Kuroo was, and it left them confused. But who could blame them? Upon a quick glance at the two, anyone would assume that for such a big guy like Kuroo (whose hair was wild and eyes were sharp) to walk beside a small, fretting Yachi (who many compared with a wounded little kitten) while dragging his indoor slippers across the floor with his hands casually thrown in his pockets while his mouth would be holding a toothpick in between his teeth, it was almost safe to assume that such a scene could only mean one thing: that Yachi was being threatened.

But upon closer observation, you’d realize that they were far from a scene of a blackmailer and a blackmailee. As many have stated before; a book should never be judged by its cover, and if the duo was to be called anything at all, it would be that they were essentially the base of that very quote.

Throughout the three months of becoming closer to one another, Kuroo and Yachi had become creatures of habit; sharing their lunchboxes with Kuroo occasionally throwing a fishball at Yachi’s face while Yachi would do the same with her octopus-shaped sausage. Kuroo’s bed hair was always a disaster, but became less of a mess after Yachi’s attempt every morning to tame it before entering the school gate to avoid the uniform regulator from giving him any more marks than he’d already gotten. Heck, she’d help him button his shirt up and even scold him for skipping breakfast if it was needed. Breakfast, Kuroo had learned from a nagging Yachi who had her hands on her hips, was the most important meal of the day, and the consequences that he’d face from skipping it was—well, not much, considering how Yachi always brings an extra sandwich with her whenever meeting him up before school for the sole purpose of feeding him.

With Kuroo regularly attending school, it became rather hard for people to approach Yachi. This, contrary to what one would think, put her to ease, since dealing with people had been something she’d always found herself having a problem with.

And besides, it wasn’t like she was entirely alone. That no longer needed to become an option, since she now had Kuroo who was more than enough to put her heart at ease.

And thanks to that, there were now what could be considered to be “normal days” for Yachi. Days that always included Kuroo and his silly antics. Days where he was always around to tease her about her height, or her ponytail, or her blushing face. How nice it was, Yachi had thought over and over again, that she didn’t feel like she needed to cling to one thing to find happiness. Happiness, she’s realized, came in so many shapes and sizes. It just came so to be that these days, happiness came in the size of 188 centimeters and had hair so messy that it could be compared to a bird’s nest.  
  
  
But on a particular Friday morning where everything seemed to be a normal day for Yachi, Kuroo broke his streak of three months by not attending morning class.

This worried Yachi and made her realize that she had definitely taken the three months of successfully making Kuroo attend school again for granted, considering how little effort Yachi needed to put into making Kuroo go to school (all it took was for her to walk to his block and he’d already been running down the stairs with a piece of bread in his mouth).

And if Kuroo was really going to start skipping again, what did it mean to Yachi? 

A lot, apparently, considering how it was making her increasingly paranoid over what must’ve happened to him. It surprised her for being so affected by his presence. How did she go on every day before having Kuroo in her life? He’d always been there, and yet he hadn’t. Why had she become so dependent on him? Why did she feel so uneasy for not having Kuroo to ground her? But at her defense, Yachi felt like she had the right to be worried about him. Kuroo was a big guy who looked like he could beat up ten people all at once. Truth was, he _was_ that, but he was also the type of guy who’d fallen from a tree an attempt to save a cat (true story, Yachi personally witnessed it). Kuroo Tetsurou and had his own ways of being street smart, but sometimes (which was a lot of the time), he’d forget about himself. What if he overslept and took his bike to school, but accidentally fell into an open gutter? Or what if his electricity was suddenly cut off, and he somehow caught a cold last night?  
  
The possibilities were endless, and Yachi didn’t like that at all.

And so, when lunch break finally came around, Yachi decides to wander around school grounds to see if she could find him. Under the large oak trees by the school benches. Behind the gym. The rooftop that he’d shown her how to sneak into. He was a bit like a stray cat sometimes—finding all kinds of corners to hide himself in.

But he was nowhere to be found. All she could see around her were laughing classmates, and teammates of club activities that were sitting together for lunch. All she could hear were them laughing and teasing each other, followed by the loud wind that was ringing in her ears.   

Another round behind the school, and Yachi almost gives up on finding Kuroo. He must’ve had his reasons for not being able to make it to school today. He had to.

But finding him she finally did; behind the vending machine on the bench. Curious as to why he was even sitting there, and preparing to ask him why he’d missed out on morning class, Yachi approaches him quietly with small steps. But her steps come to a halt when she suddenly overhears a few of their classmates talk by vending-machine.  
  
"I wonder how many he's beaten up." one says, ending his sentence with a shudder.  
  
"He probably beats every person he sees up just for looking at him, you know?"  
  
But Yachi knows he's not like that. How naïve it was of her to have thought that the people around them would be able to see the Kuroo that would read books on physics and pet every dog they come across (only to scare away its owners). Their classmates would probably laugh if she was to tell her classmates that she'd witnessed him helping a cat coming down a tree, only to plant his face in the grass when the cat flies right down to attack him.  
  
“He probably doesn’t even care about his future. I mean, who shows up to school with his face beaten up all the time? He must be spending all his free time to hit people.”

  
Yachi feels her whole body tense up at the boy’s words. Doesn’t care about his future? Spending his free time to hit people? The sheer amount of ignorance would’ve been overlooked if only they’d left out the assumptions.

But that would’ve just been blissful thinking to assume that they had some common decency, which these guys evidentially did not have at all.

"Have you ever seen him hit someone?" Yachi suddenly hears herself ask the boys by the vending machine, surprising everyone including herself.

What was she doing? Where did her confidence to speak up come from?

Yachi was not the type to be confrontational. As said before, she was the textbook definition of a push-over.

But the way they’d speak of Kuroo as if he was just mere trash. The guts they had to put themselves above him when they didn’t even amount to trash (and _unrecycled trash at that)—_ it was making Yachi furious. With her hands shaking and clenching in sheer frustration of not knowing how to control her emotions for the very first time, Yachi continued.

"Don't spout things that you can't prove.” She almost whispers, and quickly walks away from the scene that she had caused, only to have her wrist gently caught by Kuroo's soft grip.

Yachi had never felt this kind of rage before. Heck, what _was_ rage, first of all? Disappointment, happiness, hopelessness. Those were all emotions that she had experience with and knew like the back of her hand, but this? _Anger?_ She felt like a soda bottle being burst open without being able to be in control of where the soda would stain, and it felt weird—to be expressing how she felt so freely when she’d always restricted herself from feeling too much.  
  
"Hey, Yacchan.”

Yachi stops her steps and holds her breath before facing Kuroo’s stupid grin, who turns her around to make her face him by making her sit down on the bench with him.

Thanks."

“S-sorry," Yachi immediately mutters while still having her fists clenched. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually—”

“Hey,” Kuroo calls for her again to snap Yachi’s focus back to his face. She was refusing to look at him now that her anger was starting to simmer and embarrassment was starting to make her come back to her senses, and Kuroo decides upon softly gazing at the small, blushing blonde that if now was the time to die, he might actually be okay with it.

Holding her free hand with his own, Kuroo gives her a squeeze to make her calm down. This, Kuroo has learned, was something that worked every time.

“You don’t have to stick up for me.”

This makes Yachi finally meet his eyes. But instead of appreciating Kuroo’s attempt to sound cool and macho, Yachi rolls her eyes and pinches his nose. “I know that, dork. I just don’t like people talking as if rumors about you were true.”

“How are you so sure that they aren’t, though?” Kuroo challenges, his voice sounding nasally from Yachi still pinching his nose.

A strand of Kuroo’s bed hair suddenly sticks up from the poor attempt of using water as hair-gel, which makes Yachi laugh. Standing up from her seat to help him put down his hair, Yachi replies with him with a soft voice.

“Just because.”

And maybe it was because the two of them were all alone, or perhaps it was because of the struggle that Kuroo had been dealing with all morning had tired him out. Whatever it was, all of the fatigue that he’d felt just moments before washed all away with just those two words, and with no particular thoughts or precautions taken at all, Kuroo takes the bold step to wrap his arms around Yachi’s waist. It was easy, after all, to hug her while she was right in front of her with the perfect height that allowed him to rest his head at her waist.

Having had prepared to be pushed away, Kuroo felt immediate relief by the fact that Yachi was putting her fingers through his hair instead of screaming at him to go away.

“Are you alright?” she whispers while looking down at him with the soft eyes that he's come to love. Kuroo looks up to meet them and gives her his usual, sheepish smile, but doesn't notice the knowing look that Yachi gives him when he plants his face in her uniform jacket.

“I am now.”

  
And he was.

  
For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alt. chapter title: the calm before the storm.
> 
> Share your thoughts on the chapter with me! I'd love to hear them. :)


	5. Serenity

Orbs of light cast a luminous shine over a Friday afternoon; the cloudless sky slowly starts to paint itself in various colours of pink as a soft wind gently breezes through the stillness of the now empty streets.

With his hands in his pockets, Kuroo watches the remaining sunlight beam at Yachi’s face from the corner of his eye as the two of them walked home. The way her brown eyes were reflected like pools of honey in the afternoon sun was making his heart do volts in his chest, making a distinct gasp lodge itself in the base of his throat.

How was it possible for someone to be this breathtaking?

Kuroo feels like he’s been struck by lightning. How pathetic it was, for him to be so hopelessly affected by such a small individual, and for the smallest of reasons.

Was this like to be infatuated with someone?

Kuroo wouldn’t know.

Despite being a full-fledged teenage boy, he felt nothing like one. Having had been forced to grow up despite his mother’s best efforts of preventing it, Kuroo found himself often observing kids his own age with a slight tinge of envy for their jocundity. Although Kuroo had never done anything remotely frightening to deliberately scare people off, it was as if people had become comfortable with rumors about him becoming facts.

But then again, Kuroo’s intimidating ambiance that he would unbecomingly cast upon the people around him didn’t help much with that, either. If anything, it probably only fueled it even more, considering how girls would always be very cautious of his presence no matter in what direction he’d try to tame his hair in. But what was he to do? He absolutely despises the idea of him making girls scared. Having had witnessed too many heartbreaking flinches and fists that shook out of the fear of becoming hit, the last thing he wanted to be was to be viewed as the threat itself.

But if one listens to the opinions of others for too long, it slowly becomes a truth that you’ll come to accept.

For the longest time, this is what Kuroo had slowly molded himself into becoming. It was so easy to conform to the ideals of others. It was easier—a mindless process that didn’t require investing any real emotions, because the one that you would slowly start to become was a version of you that would make you feel disconnected. Impersonal.

But the gentle touches to his cheeks. The genuine smiles and ringing laughter. Such affection that he’d thought that he would never get from someone—he’d gotten from Yachi, who reminded him of the boy beneath all the layers of rumorous whispers.

She was always there, in all her glory.

Right next to him.

  
When Yachi catches his gaze, she tilts her head, her eyes hinting question over Kuroo’s lingering stare.

“Is there something on my face?” she asks, which makes Kuroo laugh.  _Ah,_ he thinks,  _the golden question._  Was she deliberately doing this? He wasn’t sure anymore.

“Yeah.” He huffs, swinging his hands from his pockets and over the back of his head. “Try rubbing your face.”

“Huh?” Yachi responds, her hands dragging her cheeks to eliminate the supposed dirt.

With a smirk, Kuroo glances at the increasingly confused blonde in the corner of his eye. Putting his hands back into his pockets, Kuroo halts his steps and bends down to level with the little blonde.

“Huh,” he says with a forged frown, “I guess the cute doesn’t come off.”

He delivers his punchline with pride as he watches Yachi’s cheek become dusted with pink and whose hands were now covering her face.

  
\---

  
Although walking Yachi home had already become a habitual routine for Kuroo, he couldn't help but feel the same, slight panic every time the week would reach Fridays, as it meant that they were to become separated by the societal, constructed doom that was the weekend.

With each step becoming heavier by each inch they’d come closer to home, Kuroo would always let them linger just a _tiny_ bit longer than usual towards the last few meters in order to savor the few minutes they had left. And although he couldn’t possibly gamble upon his chances of being invited into her apartment again, Kuroo had never been one to let opportunities slip.   
  
_Fifty steps left,_  Kuroo thinks as he watches Yachi’s apartment approaching his rare view.

_Thirty._

_Twenty—_  
  
  
To his dismay, they reach Yachi’s doorstep by the tenth step. But just as Kuroo was about to leave, he feels Yachi tug the corner of his uniform jacket.

"Kuroo?"

Turning around a tad bit too fast for it to conceal his obvious, beaming face of victory, Kuroo finds himself struggling to hide his smirk when he sees the sight of a very red Yachi Hitoka.

Despite thinking that he wasn't, Kuroo was rather cunning, indeed.

"It's cold outside!" Yachi squeaks, stating the obvious.

Kuroo raises an amused eyebrow at the little blonde in front of him, and takes his hands out of his pockets to put on his hips. "Oya?"

  
Giving him a coy smile, Yachi tugs her grip of his jacket before proceeding to ask him, "w-want to come inside?”

\---

  
Yachi’s apartment looked exactly the same as the last time Kuroo was over at her house. 

The same colour of curtains, the same bookshelf filled with all the same kinds of books. The only thing that had changed, Kuroo notices, was the flowers in the flower pots that were scattered throughout the apartment. Sunflowers that he’d seen last time had been replaced with tulips, and the big, green plant in the living room was now the home of a small bonsai tree.

Just like the last time, Kuroo had thought that Yachi’s apartment was very cozy. Very warm. The frilly tablecloths and pink, overall exterior made the place look very homey—and yet, something was missing.  
  
Kuroo’s eyes travel to the photo frames on the shelf above the television, and spots a picture of Yachi and her father. Wearing a white, frilly dress and the most beaming smile that Kuroo had ever seen Yachi wear, it seemed as if the picture had captured the happiest moment of her life.

 “Heh, cute.” Kuroo chortles, catching Yachi’s attention, who’d been busy trying to clean up an already clean living room. Turning around to see Kuroo with his hands on his waist in front of her baby picture, Yachi immediately tries to cover it up.

“Don’t tease.” She mutters as she tries to (unsuccessfully) pull him away from looking at any more pictures of her as a child.

“You were so cute as a kid.” Kuroo laughs as he picks up one of the photo frames with the picture of Yachi and her dad. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Yachi mumbles, and stands on her tip-toes to look over Kuroo’s shoulder. A rather stupid choice that was, considering how her height didn’t even reach past his collarbones.

“Then you should consider yourself lucky,” Kuroo chuckles as he wiggles his eyebrows, “not a lot of people gets to have a piece of,” he wiggles his waist, “this.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a reason for why there’s not that many who has.” Yachi snaps, but a smile creeps its way to her lips.

Yachi attempts to take the picture away from his hands by balancing on her toes, which, of course, becomes a failed attempt as the only thing that Kuroo had to do was to simply bring his arm up.

But instead of doing that, Kuroo decides to bring himself closer to her instead; by taking a seat on the floor while pulling her down with him.

  
They were suddenly so close, and yet neither of them felt uncomfortable. It’s been like this for a while; the way they’d gravitate towards one another without it being awkward. But _this_ —the closeness that they shared at this very moment was nothing compared to the occasional touches that they’d ever shared.

This was Kuroo being Kuroo, but it was also Kuroo not being himself. With the occasional teasing here and there, you’d think that he would push her boundaries, but it was never to an extent that would make her uncomfortable. It was always with consent, always met with laughter or a giggle or a smile.

Although he would never admit it, Kuroo’s always kept a respectable distance from her—his lingering fear of scaring her off always reminding him to be observant of what her face was saying. He’s learned, after all, that it was so easy for people to leave. And although he wanted to believe that Yachi was different, it wasn’t like it was easy to mend old wounds. But then again, she could’ve pushed him away, and yet she chose to stay. For that, he was grateful and very relieved, because he would’ve probably had to treat himself to a lot of ice cream to numb a rejection from Yachi Hitoka.

But what did it mean to Yachi, to have him so close to her? The violent beating of her heart that thumped to her ears and the warmth of her cheeks that almost made it hard for her to breathe— _what did it all mean?_

When Yachi feels Kuroo’s heartbeat against her back, she realizes, that perhaps there  _were_ things in life that didn’t need a clear, vocal answer. She was one to love reassurance and answers, but with the warmth that radiated from every action that Kuroo took in regard to herself—she finds herself revaluing this.

  
\---

  
Watching the little blonde gaze up to him makes Kuroo realize his new favourite place to be around.

It had always been by that one bench in the park near his apartment before—a place that his mother frequently visited with him as a child—or the family diner located downtown. But now he’s realized that a favourite place didn’t always have to be a destination.

It could also be in the presence of his favourite person—to bask in her light and take in her tranquility.

Yachi Hitoka had successfully torn his walls down, and with what, he has no idea.

(Kuroo has this mental image of Yachi in a sheep costume while poking a physical wall with a knife. It makes him laugh every single time.)

  
Unlike the last time that Kuroo was here, Yachi shows him around the apartment. The kitchen, the living room, the small study room, and her own room. Kuroo had expected her room to look like the rest of the house; very pink, very frilly, but it was surprisingly rather neutral in contrast to the rest of the apartment.   
  
On the shelf above her study desk held a lot of photo frames, all filled with pictures of her and her father.

Kuroo walks up to one of them, and as he knows that he probably shouldn’t be asking any questions, he can't help but become curious of the unbashful smile that reached to the ears of the little two-year-old blonde in the picture.

But just as he was about to ask about it, Yachi answers his questions for him.

"My dad..." Yachi starts, her voice thick with melancholy, "my dad died when I was young.”

A sigh escapes from Yachi’s lips.

"My mom has been distant with me ever since his death.” She continues, her voice getting a little smaller. “I… I understand that it’s not easy to get over someone that you’ve loved. I’m the product of their relationship, so I can’t imagine how hard it must be for her to be reminded of him every time she sees my face.”

“…But still. It would've been nice if she actually chose me, you know? Over marrying someone to forget about the life that she's had, I mean."

This was the first time that Yachi was talking about her own family. Kuroo’s heard her mention her mother here and there, but it was never to an extent of actually getting to know any details. Deciding that he wanted to see her face, Kuroo turns her around and puts a gentle palm to her cheek. If he could so choose, he’d want to swoop her away from her burdens forever. But for now, he opts for what he does the best.

“Well,” Kuroo says softly, his gaze following every trace of her expression that seemingly was about to break,

“Yachi Hitoka,”

Kuroo bites his lip while mentally contemplating whether he’ll regret what he was about to do forever—but realizing that he was going to hate himself even more for not doing it, Kuroo goes for it.

“I choose you.”

He finishes his sentence with his arm stretched out before softly landing it on top of Yachi’s head, and feels his whole body loosen up at the sound of Yachi’s muffled giggles.

“Was that a Pokémon reference?” Yachi croaks, whose tears stubbornly traced her brims and smile was sneaking its way to her lips.

Giving her a smirk, Kuroo brings Yachi’s face closer to his own with his calloused palms to her cheeks. “Of course.”

  
If you were to ask Yachi Hitoka whether she’d ever dare to speak to Kuroo Tetsurou a year ago, she’d immediately start to stutter a denial as her mind would be going through all the possible scenes of Kuroo somehow killing her in her sleep.

And yet, here she was, almost a year later, taking the first step to lean into Kuroo’s face.

  
With her own small palms reaching to her cheeks to take his big and rough ones, Yachi leans into his warmth and plants small, chaste kisses to his forehead.

His cheeks. His chin, his—

Lips.

Her soft lips to his make him feverish—his every brain cell that held any form of cognitive ability becoming evaporated away in a mist of ardency. But choosing not to think, Kuroo brings her closer and softly kisses her back, pushing his weight slightly towards her as if telling her to not let him go. His head becomes filled with fireworks that he’d never seen before, and he wonders, as he feels her hands carefully grasping the corners of his shirt, how an individual who was an entirely different entity could fit so snug under his grasp.

  
\---

But just like all good things, even a moment like this had to come to an end. The universe has its funny ways of creating coincidences during the most unconventional moments—and this, of course, was not going to be an exception.

In the brief moment of the unlikely duo smiling lovingly at each other, the front door of Yachi’s apartment opens, and suddenly, Yachi and Kuroo found themselves being in the presence of Yachi Madoka.

Kuroo wasn’t sure what he’d expected Yachi’s mother to look like. Intimidating, perhaps, judging by the way that Yachi had described her, but other than that, he had no expectations for her exterior at all. And yet, somehow, Kuroo’s finds himself not being surprised by the fact that Yachi looked nothing like her mother, at all.

She was tall and sharp, her stance confident and demanding—as if her sole presence was weighing down on them.

And suddenly it all made sense.

Yachi’s staggering confidence, Yachi’s anxiety, Yachi’s frustrations. The core reason for all of those things was her. High grades, mental independence, cooking, and cleaning. Yachi was not a tool, and yet, the way she looked at her own daughter seemed to bore no trace of a mother meeting the gaze of her own daughter. The Yachi Hitoka that Kuroo had come to know; the witty girl who’d get nervous over being late but always was able to throw herself at a scary crowd of old grandmothers in war for some vegetables on sale, or the girl whose handwriting is so neat and tidy but would have notebooks filled with small doodles that looked like a publishable manga.

She probably knew nothing of it.

 

  
“Who is this?” she asks, her voice mirroring the look on her face.

Yachi, who’d unknowingly gripped Kuroo’s shirt, grips to him tighter. But with a surprisingly steady voice, she looks up to her mother to answer her.

“This is my friend.”

“Your  _friend._ ” She repeats her daughter’s words with a borderline scoff underlining the tone of her voice.

 

A pause, and then she adds—

“And I like him.”  
  


A sigh escapes her mother's lips, and with tired eyes that seemingly bore holes through Kuroo's skull, her mother whips her hair back and gives her daughter a small scoff in response. “Well, I wouldn’t risk liking a boy like  _that_ if I were you.”

And with that, she turns her heel to enter her room.  
  
  
Kuroo feels Yachi’s whole body tense up next to him. Trying to find comfort in the warmth of Kuroo's gentle touch to the small of her back, Yachi feels herself holding Kuroo for support.  
  
She feels so overwhelmed.

_So mentally exhausted._

And so, she speaks up. For the first time in her life, Yachi hears her own, almost whispering voice, call for answers that she’d never dared to demand.

“Why,” Yachi breathes, “would something like that be the first thing you say to me after two weeks without a call home?” she says, her voice small but steady.

(Although barely.)

  
This makes Yachi’s mother halt her steps and turn around.

“Calls?” she asks, her eyebrow raised as her icy stare lingered over her daughter’s face, who continues, her grip of Kuroo loosening and stance straightening.  
  
“Or messages.  _Anything._ ”

It was hard for Yachi to keep her voice from shaking. She'd just denied her mother for the very first time in her life, and she was so incredibly terrified.

But nevertheless, she continues.

  
“I understand that you’re tired. And that you’re very busy—"

“Then that should be enough.” her mother cuts her off.

Kuroo looks up at the woman in front of them in disbelief, but says nothing.

This was not the time, he decides, to stir up things. 

  
“It’s  _not_.” 

 _  
Shit,_ Kuroo thinks and tightens the grip of her hand, _her voice is trembling._

  
But Yachi’s not on the verge of tears.  
  
_She’s angry._

  
“Don’t you," Yachi glowers, her voice becoming increasingly quiet, "care about me at all?”

  
Yachi’s voice was not in rage. But the sheer amount of disappointment and tinges of given up hope breaks Kuroo’s heart. It was the same voice that he’d heard his mother use on his father during all the times that the family was on the brink of falling apart.

  
“Well,” Yachi Madoka says then in a tired voice, "suit yourself. Or if you think it suits you better, you can always move out of the house if you think that your mother who’s giving you salary a roof over your head is too much to deal with.”

  
And with that, she finally enters her room and closes the door behind her.

  
Feeling like her surroundings were increasingly sounding muffled and vision starting to blur, Yachi finds herself trying to grasp for something,  _anything,_  to make her find the balance back to her knees.

  
Thankfully, Kuroo was still there. With strong arms carefully holding Yachi's trembling shoulders, Kuroo leans into her ear, his voice spoken in a tone that resembled walking on fragile glass.

  
"Let’s get out of here."

 

\---

  
  
Kuroo didn’t have a destination in mind when he took Yachi's hand to lead her out of her apartment. All he knew was that she needed to get away from there, and  _fast,_ so he just let his feet wander while his hand holds Yachi’s in a firm grasp.

They pass the trees near Kuroo's apartment complex, and Yachi closes her eyes to let the breeze travel over her face.

By now, Yachi's already memorized her way to his apartment from all the morning calls that she’d been given the raven-haired boy. She hadn’t realized then, but she realizes now, how much she actually enjoyed their little morning rendezvous. The anticipation that she had to see Kuroo’s hair sticking up from a different direction every morning had become somewhat of an inside joke of theirs, and to have that alone made her feel safe—a sense of belonging.

But as they slowly walk towards the bridge that separated Yachi's apartment complex from his, Yachi's moment of serenity comes to an abrupt halt when she suddenly feels Kuroo's whole body tense up beside her.  
  
Looking up to see why Kuroo had stopped his tracks, Yachi finds her eyes land on a man with equally dark, golden eyes as Kuroo himself, if not darker.

A man whose build was much bigger than Kuroo. A man, Yachi notes as her eyes travel urgently to the increasingly tight grip of Yachi’s hand in his, that was making Kuroo's mind go blank and muscles completely freeze.

 


	6. Please Don't

  
Yachi doesn’t quite remember what fearing Kuroo was like. To have gotten to know the utter doofus that he was, she’s learned so much about never judging a book by its cover. To accept people before rejecting them. To be patient, to understand.

   
But when Kuroo’s grip of her hand tightens and immediately drags her behind him to shield her away from the presence before them, Yachi realizes that this was the version of Kuroo that everyone had feared. A version of him, where his voice bore no emotion, and where his face gave no resemblance of care. She’s seen him like this so many times before knowing him. The way he’d nonchalantly enter the classroom without responding to the teachers’ lectures on the importance of being on time. Or when his classmates would approach him.

It feels like it’s been so long since the last time she’s seen this version of him. Perhaps it was the privilege of having him being so adoring and open towards her that had made her overlook his habit of building defensive walls around himself in the presence of other people. It was, after all, not healthy to just rely on one person for support.

But upon realizing who the man in front of them was, Yachi realizes that Kuroo might not have anyone _but_ her to rely on.

"Where is she?" he asks with a hoarse voice, reeking with alcohol.  
  
  
Kuroo’s hand is shaking in hers, and it makes Yachi realize that the version of Kuroo that she’s learned to love never left. Despite the walls that he builds up—despite the fact that he’s found a way to completely omit all the endearing qualities that make him so lovable, Yachi sees through it all. Kuroo was tall and strong. He had the face that scared away bullies. But just like anyone else, he could be scared. Frightened—like a little child, if not a lost one.

And it absolutely breaks her heart, to see him like this. But without speaking a word, she takes her free hand and holds his arm. To calm him down. To assure him that she was still there. Right beside him, and nowhere else.

But it doesn’t quite work, because all Kuroo could focus on was the fact that he still had Yachi behind him, and the man that he despised the most in the world in front of him. He doesn’t quite realize it, but the habit of standing in front of the danger to shield it away has become so deeply rooted in him, that it comes to him so naturally.  


And when he feels Yachi slightly shaking beside him, flashbacks of his past immediately hits him with emotions that he’s been trying so hard to lock away.  
  
  
"Don't you fucking touch her." Kuroo sneers, both his arms throwing behind him to shield Yachi from the utter existence that was the man before them. He sounds intimidating, and nothing like he'd ever sounded like before. It wasn't the soft, gentle voice that he used with Yachi. There was no hidden wit, no hidden sarcasm, no hidden anything but pure hatred dripping from every word that was coming out of his mouth.

Yachi’s voice doesn’t reach her lips, but his name keeps spinning in her head like a plea—a cry for help.

Like a prayer, begging for peace.

  
  
"You don't get to-" the man hiccups between his words, "—to decide who I touch or don't."  
  
  
He said that a lot. That Kuroo didn’t have the right to come in between adults’ quarrels. That the hits he landed on his mother’s face were all justifiable. All the times he’s taken the hits for his mother, all the alcohol bottles that would land on the ground, only to shatter into pieces that his mother later would cut herself on while having her eyes misted with tears that she’d try to hide from Kuroo. Silence was deafening during those times. He’d rather have her cry out, to let her express what she was thinking for once.

But violence was always to be expected, and although she never intended to, and even though Kuroo knew that it wasn’t entirely her intention, it still broke his heart with how scared she grew to become around men.

 

Around him.  
  
 

The fact that his father had the audacity to say the exact same thing that he’d said when his mother was still around, _but about Yachi,_ was making Kuroo fuming. Kuroo hated violence, because violence was always present. Violence never solved conflict, and so he never used it. All the bruises to his face, all the broken bones and blistered lips… all of it was meaningless violence.

And suddenly Yachi realizes. She realizes, and she can’t help but to tear up. She covers her mouth with her free hand, as if not quite believing what she was realizing. Although she’s always had a hunch when it came to all the cuts and bruises to Kuroo’s face, she’d never thought that she’d be right. Or that it could be true. A hunch was so far away from being the truth, but with it being intertwined, she can’t help but feel her tears stream down her cheeks and the hurt she feels in her chest from being completely overwhelmed over how much she realizes that the boy she’s come to love has had to hold in. The pain that he’s felt, the hurtful words that he’s heard.

She wants to take his face to hers and tell him that it's okay. That he's alright. That he can't be hurt.  
  
But that would be a lie. The man in front of them was the cause to all his hurt, and Yachi desperately wants to take it all from him. To make the man before them disappear.  
  
  
Take him away. Throw him away.

 

Go.

 _Away._  
  
  
  
Yachi doesn't remember much of what happens next, but all she could set her focus towards was the broken glass bottle that the man was hiding behind him. Her gut feeling told her to drag Kuroo away from him as far as possible, and so she obliges. She tries, tries, tries—

   
—and misses.  
  
  
Or rather, he does.  
  
  
  
Droplets of blood run down Yachi's face, but she can't feel the pain. Maybe it's because of the adrenaline. Or maybe it was because she felt too much relief over that Kuroo wasn't the one who got hurt. Either way, the last thing she remembers before she felt the world before her running around in circles was how she'd tried to reach for Kuroo's frozen, shocked face. A whisper had escaped her mouth. A whisper of assurance. Hands that covered her wound. Lips to her temple, mouthing words of assurance over and over again, as if not knowing to say anything else.  
  
Assuring that she was alright.  
  
  
But she wasn't.

 

Because of course she wasn't.


End file.
